Sherlock Holmes Saves a Marriage
by SeenaC
Summary: Next part of my ongoing narrative.  Sherlock is in a race against time to prevent a war.  Final chapter is now up!  Rated "M" for adult subject matter, please see warnings inside.  COMPLETE!  All comments appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Once again, this plot is borrowed from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle with reverence and respect. I have changed many of the details in order to make it fit into our times and circumstances.

**Disclaimers:** This is a work of fiction, any similarity to real persons or events is purely coincidental. The characters and plot are not mine and this was not created for profit.

**Warnings:** Adult subject matter, marital infidelity, underlying slash (still not openly expressed).

Sherlock Holmes Saves a Marriage - 1

The events of the past few days have been so bizarre, that even though I can't publish my notes on this case right now (and possibly will) I feel like I have to make a record of them. I have changed the names of the parties involved, to protect both them and myself.

It's been a few weeks since the discovery of the events surrounding the murder of Sherlock's mother, and the discovery of the existence of Mycroft's son.

Mycroft called Sherlock last Tuesday morning to say that he needed to see him on an extremely important matter, and would be bringing two guests with him.

Sherlock and Mycroft had been getting along much better lately, and so Sherlock didn't try to argue or put his brother off.

Much to our surprise, Mycroft arrived with two people I never expected to see in person: the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary.

After introductions were made, I hurried into the kitchen to make tea for everyone, desperately hoping that I could gather five mugs that would be safe to drink from. I was also wishing that our sitting room was a bit tidier. It was a bit uncomfortable to see two of the government's top officials sitting surrounded by the clutter that Sherlock always accumulated.

Mycroft had seated himself in my chair, and clutched his hands tightly around the wooden handle of his umbrella. I was no Holmes, but I could tell that whatever brought them here, it had to be very serious. The Secretary in particular had a tired and distraught look on his face, while the Prime Minister looked grim.

As I made my way back with the mugs of tea and began handing them out, the Secretary was talking to Sherlock, "When I discovered it was missing at 8 this morning, I immediately informed the Prime Minister, who then notified Mr. Holmes, as it was his department that had acquired it. He suggested that we consult you."

"Have you contacted the police?" asked Sherlock. I could see Mycroft visibly flinch.

"No," said the Prime Minister, "that is impossible. To get the police involved would get the public involved. That has to be prevented if at all possible."

"Why?"

"The...document is so important that if the contents were leaked it could easily...probably lead to an ugly international incident. This document could start a war. Its contents have to remain secret or else we may as well not recover it at all. We have to assume that whomever stole it wanted to make the contents available."

"I see," said Sherlock. "Secretary Hope, will you please tell me, in exact detail, the circumstances of the document's disappearance."

"Yes, Mr. Holmes," said the Secretary, "The letter, it's a letter from a foreign head of state, was intercepted by Mr. Mycroft Holmes' agent six days ago. The contents are so important that I have never left it in my office overnight. I have been taking it home each evening and keeping it in my fire-safe in my bedroom. It was there last night, I know it was because I opened the safe before dinner and saw it inside. This morning when I went to leave for work it was gone. The box was underneath my bed all night. My wife and I are both light sleepers, so we know that no one could have gone through the safe during the night. But somehow, the letter is gone."

"What time did you have dinner?"

"7:30."

"How long before you went to bed?"

"My wife had gone out for the evening so I waited up for her. We went to bed at about 11:30."

"So, for four hours the fire-safe was unguarded?"

"I was at home the entire time, and no one else was in the house."

"Who else knew of the existence of the letter?"

"No one."

Sherlock looked skeptical, "Your wife had to have known."

"No, I never said anything to her about the letter until it was missing this morning."

"Could she have guessed?"

"How could she have guessed? Nobody could have guessed."

"Who else besides we here in this room, knows of the existence of this letter?"

"In England, only the members of the Cabinet."

"And abroad?"

"The agent who intercepted it and the man who wrote it. The writer, we believe, acted entirely on his own and members of his own government don't know of it. The usual, official channels were not used."

Sherlock sat in thought for a moment or so before saying, "I have to ask you what this document is and why its disappearance would have such terrible consequences?"

Mycroft, the Prime Minister, and the Secretary all exchanged glances and the Prime Minister frowned.

It looked like Mycroft was trying not to smile as the Prime Minister began to speak, "The envelope is long and light blue. There is a red seal with a tree on it. It is addressed in large handwriting - "

Sherlock interrupted, "These are interesting and important details, but my question is more on substance. What was _in_ the letter?"

"That is a matter of national security, I cannot tell you, nor do I think it's necessary. If you have the powers your brother says you posses, you should be able to find this envelope, and if you do, you will have done this country, and the world, a great favor and you will certainly be rewarded for it."

Sherlock stood up from his chair smiling, "You three are the most busy men in the country, but I also have a lot of demands on my time. I'm sorry that I can't help you with this, so I won't waste any more of your time."

He began to walk over to the sitting room door. The Prime Minister stood up, looking extremely angry, and glared at Mycroft, who only smiled blandly back from his seat. The Secretary also remained sitting, looking rather sick.

After a moment of tense silence, the Prime Minister sat down, but still looked angry. He huffed in irritation and then said, "Fine, we accept your terms, Mr. Holmes. I suppose it is unreasonable for us to expect you to act for us unless we give you our confidence. I am depending on you and Dr. Watson to keep this matter secret. The possible repercussions of this letter are extremely serious."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "You can trust us."

I nodded.

"The letter is from a certain foreign head of state who has become upset by some recent...actions by another country in the general region, although the two countries do not share a border. It was written in a hurry, by this head of state, while in a rage, it was his individual doing, and not endorsed by his government."

Mycroft broke in, "Our discreet inquiries have revealed that none of his Ministers know anything about the letter."

The Prime Minister nodded and continued, "But the language and threats in the letter are so inflammatory, that if it were published it could incite dangerous reactions in the region. I would speculate that within one week of the publication of the letter the entire region, and possibly beyond, could be at war."

Sherlock walked over to his desk, wrote something on a piece of paper, and handed it to the Prime Minister who looked at it and then tore the paper to pieces.

"Yes, you guessed correctly, he's the writer. And so, this letter, which could cost untold lives and fortunes, has somehow become lost."

"Have you notified the sender?"

"Yes," said Mycroft.

Sherlock addressed his brother, "So he knows that you intercepted it, and that it didn't reach his intended recipient."

"Yes," said Mycroft again, after a pause he continued. "To give you some idea of the seriousness of what was in this letter, the agent who intercepted it had spent years getting close to the writer. Taking it meant that the agent had to flee, and he barely got out of the country. We may never get another agent that close to the writer again. However, the agent knew after reading the letter that it was worth the sacrifice."

"So now that the writer knows you have it, what has been his reaction? Maybe he wants it made public," said Sherlock.

The Prime Minister broke in again, "No, we have good reason to believe that he has had a change of heart and realizes that he acted in an irresponsible way. It could be a disaster for him or his country if the letter came out."

"If that's the case, whose interest would it be in for the letter to be published? Why would anyone want to steal it or publish it?"

Mycroft looked grim as he said, "You don't follow international politics closely enough, apparently. Consider the situation of the region in question. It is all an armed camp, sitting over one of the world's most precious resources. Any shift in power allows an opening for another party to stick their foot in there and possibly wield their influence. The downfall of one government usually results in the gain of another."

"I see. So another party would want to obtain and publish this letter in order to create chaos that may give them an opening?"

"Exactly."

"And where would this document be sent if it fell into opportunistic hands?"

"To any number of governments around the world. It may be on its way to one of them right now."

Secretary Hope dropped his head in his hands and groaned. The Prime Minister patted him on the shoulder.

"No one can blame you. You took every precaution."

He turned to Sherlock, "Now you know the facts, what do you recommend?"

Sherlock shook his head, "You think that if this document isn't recovered that there will be war?"

"I think it's very possible."

"Then prepare for war."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I previously forgot to ask for reviews of this story, so I'm asking now! :-)

Sherlock Holmes Saves a Marriage - 2

_He turned to Sherlock, "Now you know the facts, what do you recommend?"_

_Sherlock shook his head, "You think that if this document isn't recovered that there will be war?"_

_"I think it's very possible."_

_"Then prepare for war."_

The Prime Minister looked angry again, "Are you refusing to help?"

Sherlock replied, "No, but look at the facts. The letter could not have been taken after Mr. Hope and his wife went to bed last night. It must have been taken yesterday evening between 7:30 and 11:30. If it was taken during that time where would it be now? No one has any reason to keep it. It would have been passed on to those that want it. What chance do we have to find it or even trace it? I'm sure by now it must be beyond our reach."

The Prime Minister stood up again, looking resigned, "What you say makes sense, Mr. Holmes. The matter is probably out of our hands."

Sherlock turned to the Secretary, "Your bedroom is not on the ground floor is it?"

The secretary shook his head.

"So there is no entrance to it from the outside, so no one could have gone in without you knowing. It had to have been someone in the house who has taken it. But where would the thief take it? Probably to an international spy or secret agent, my brother could probably help us with some likely candidates."

Mycroft nodded, "I have three specific possibilities in mind, I'll give you all the information I have on them."

He extracted a file folder from his briefcase and handed it to Sherlock.

Sherlock continued, "Fine, I'll start with them. If one is missing - especially if he or she went missing last night - we'll have some idea of who might have the document."

"Wouldn't the agent just take it to their London Embassy?" asked the Secretary.

Mycroft answered, "Not likely, these individuals are somewhat freelance, they work for their own profit and therefore don't usually operate through official channels."

The Prime Minister nodded, "You are probably right. He would take the letter with his own hands to its potential buyer."

He turned to Sherlock, "If you would please follow up on your proposal and let us know if you come up with anything. But in the meantime, the Secretary and I have other commitments that cannot be neglected, in spite of this catastrophe. If we find out anything ourselves, we will let you know."

With that, the two officials and Mycroft left, and Sherlock immediately slapped on three nicotine patches and assumed his meditating pose on the couch. Since I could see that Sherlock was not prepared to talk with me about the case, I began reading the paper about a gruesome murder the night before.

After about ten minutes, Sherlock's eyes popped open as they do when he has come to a conclusion or decision.

"Yes," he announced, as if I knew what he'd been thinking, "it's what we have to do. The situation is critical, but not hopeless yet, as the letter isn't public yet. If we could find out which agent has it, it is possible that they still have it. I might be able to buy it off of them, and I'm sure Mycroft would be happy to sign the check. It's possible that the current holder of the letter is waiting to see who the highest bidder might be. Let's see who Mycroft thinks are the likely candidates."

Sherlock began going through the file folder Mycroft had left, muttering to himself, "Oberstein, La Rothiere, Eduardo Lucas..."

I sat up in my chair, "Eduardo Lucas? Does he live on Godolphin Street?"

Sherlock checked the file, "Yes."

"He was murdered at his house last night."

Sherlock turned to me with a look of shock that made me laugh.

"I wish I had my phone right now, I would take a picture of your face!"

He frowned at me and grabbed the paper out of my hands.

The article was titled _A Murder In Westminster_ and this is how it read:

_Last night Mr. Eduardo Lucas was murdered in his home in Godolphin Street. Mr. Lucas, 34, was a well-known and popular opera tenor. He was unmarried and lived alone. At 23:45 a police constable noticed that the door to Mr. Lucas' home was ajar. He knocked, but when he got no answer he entered the building. He found the front sitting room ransacked, with Mr. Lucas stabbed with a knife taken from a weapons display on the room of the wall. Robbery does not appear to be the motive. Scotland Yard is investigating the case._

Just then, Sherlock's phone rang. He answered it with the words, "The Mirror knew before you did? You're losing your touch!...Of course it isn't a coincidence... I'm sure I can find the connection...is Lestrade on the case?...I'll do what I can...In spite of what I say, Lestrade isn't an idiot, if he finds it...of course I'll let you know...fine, goodbye."

He hung up with a sigh, and looked over at me. Just as he was about to speak, there was a loud knocking on the front door.

We both moved to the front windows to see who was outside. It appeared to be a woman.

"Must be a visitor for Mrs. Hudson," said Sherlock moving away from the window. "So, that was Mycroft, and he's told me that Lestrade is working the Lucas case. We need to see him and find out if the letter was found at the scene of the crime. So, we'll try the crime scene first, and then go down to Scotland Yard if we need to."

Sherlock and I were gathering our things to leave when Mrs. Hudson appeared outside our flat door.

"Woo-hoo!" She called with her usual cheeriness as she knocked on our open door, "visitor for you, Sherlock!"

Sherlock and I looked with surprise as the most beautiful woman I had ever seen walked into the room.

"Hello," said the woman, looking back and forth between us, "I am Hillary Hope, the wife of Secretary Trelawney Hope. I understand my husband has been to see you this morning, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock came forward and clasped her extended hand.

"Yes, the Secretary was here," he said.

"Then I must ask you not to tell him that I came here as well."

I could see Sherlock's lips tighten and he motioned Mrs. Hope to my chair.

"Please sit down," he said, "and let me know what it is you want with me, but I will make no promises to you at this time."

As she moved to the chair, I appreciated her grace and beauty. She was probably about my age, but the years had been kinder to her than to me. She had a head of shiny, chestnut colored hair that had just a few touches of silver in it. Her eyes were hazel, and her skin had a warm tan that suggested holidays on the Mediterranean. She was tall and moved like a dancer, seating herself with practiced poise. However, it was clear that underneath it was extreme tension. Her eyes were shining with fear, and her face was flushed. Her well-manicured hands twisted nervously in her lap as she began to speak.

"Mr. Holmes, I will be open and honest with you, and I hope you will be honest with me as well. My husband and I are very close and have a loving relationship. The only important secrets he keeps from me are matters concerning his job. We do not speak at all about politics. He has never betrayed any information to me that would be improper. I know that something horrible has happened. I know that a paper disappeared from our house. But because it is a political matter, my husband will not tell me what I need to know. It is important, it is necessary that I understand what has happened and what the consequences may be. You are the only one who knows, outside of the politicians. Please, Mr. Holmes, tell me what happened and what it will lead to. I know that you might want to protect the privacy of your client, but I can promise you that my knowing will be in his best interest. What was the paper that was stolen?"

"What you are asking is impossible," said Sherlock flatly.

She groaned and put her shaking hands over her face.

Sherlock continued, "I'm sure you can see that what you are asking is impossible. If your husband does not feel that he should tell you the circumstances, how can I, as a professional, break _my_ promise of secrecy? It isn't fair of you to even ask me. He's the one you need to ask."

"I have asked him. I have come to you as a last resort." She sighed, "Alright then, if you can't tell me anything definite, can you just clear up one point for me?"

"What is it?"

"Is my husband's political career going to suffer due to this incident?"

Sherlock paused, then said, "Unless the situation is cleared up successfully, there could certainly be a very bad outcome."

She sighed again, then straightened up in the chair, as if she had come to a decision.

"One more question, Mr. Holmes. My husband said something, while still in a state of shock after he discovered the paper missing. It led me to believe that there might be terrible, international consequences due to the theft of the document."

"If he said so, I won't deny it."

"What would be these terrible consequences?"

"You are asking what I cannot answer."

"Then I won't waste any more of your time. I don't blame you, Mr. Holmes, for refusing to tell me everything. And I hope that you don't think badly of me for wanting to share my husband's troubles. But please, don't tell him I came to see you."

She had stood up, and shaken our hands, and after her final words she turned and walked resolutely out the door.

TBC...

A/N: I know, these first two chapters are almost identical to the original story. Next chapter begins the new angle I'm bringing in to the plot...


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock Holmes Saves a Marriage - 3

_"What would be these terrible consequences?"_

_"You are asking what I cannot answer."_

_"Then I won't waste any more of your time. I don't blame you, Mr. Holmes, for refusing to tell me everything. And I hope that you don't think badly of me for wanting to share my husband's troubles. But please, don't tell him I came to see you."_

_She had stood up, and shaken our hands, and at her final words turned and walked resolutely out the door._

Sherlock and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows, then walked over to the front windows to watch Mrs. Hope leave our building and walk down the street. Once she was out the front door, Sherlock turned to me.

"Well John, you're the expert on women," he said smiling in what seemed like an almost malicious manner, "what was her goal in coming here? What did she _really_ want?"

For some reason his words and attitude irritated me so I answered shortly, "She sounded pretty clear to me, and it makes sense that she would be concerned for her husband."

"Hmmmm," mused Sherlock, "she seemed almost ready to fall apart. She's the wife of a top politician, she should be more practiced at hiding her emotions than that."

"Not everyone is a polished faker," I said crossly.

Sherlock gave me one of his searching gazes, then continued, "She seemed so adamant that it would be best for her husband that she knew all the circumstances. What did she mean by that? But women can be so difficult to build theories on to explain their behavior. You don't know if they're guilty of a crime or just upset about a bad hair day."

"Women are human beings just like us, Sherlock. Our differences are nothing compared to our similarities. If you're such a great detective, you should have deduced _that _by now."

I could feel that my face was red with anger, but I wasn't quite sure why I was reacting this way. I stomped over to my chair and picked up the paper again and began emphatically pretending to read it.

"Well, I'm off out then," said Sherlock.

I noticed that his earlier "we" had turned into "I", but I didn't point it out.

"OK," was all I said.

"I'm going to check out the crime scene in Godolphin Street, hopefully Lestrade will be there. I'm sure Eduardo Lucas has to have had something to do with our little problem. If you're going to stay here...let me know if there are any more interesting visitors."

"Will do," I replied from behind the paper.

I could hear him pause for a few seconds, but when I still said nothing more I heard him gather his coat and leave the flat.

After he had gone I put down the paper and pondered over our conversation. I tried to make sense out of my feelings, and why I had reacted so strongly to Sherlock's asking me about Mrs. Hope. After several minutes, I concluded that I was reacting to what I felt was his condescending attitude toward me for my fondness for women.

I am fond of women, more than fond, actually. I love women. Back in my salad days I had loved women on three different continents. Those days were now over, maybe, but I still loved women. And I missed them. _And how dare Sherlock try to put me down for it! _

I sat there fuming. It was so unfair! Here I was, in a period of self-imposed celibacy mostly because of Sherlock, yet he still had the audacity to look down on me for my love of women. _Well, that has to stop! I'm not going to be ashamed of what I am!_

I thought long and hard about how to remedy the situation without it turning into a row with Sherlock, but I didn't come up with any answers. I especially felt reluctant to bring up emotions or related issues while Sherlock was on a case. He disliked emotional discussions at any time, but when he was working it would be especially aggravating to him.

Sherlock never came home or contacted me again that day before I gave up waiting to hear from him and went to bed at midnight.

The next morning I awoke to find that Sherlock had never come to bed. When I got up to make my tea, I found him on the couch, still dressed, laying down with his eyes closed, but with his hands steepled under his chin, indicating that he was not asleep, but thinking.

He made no move to acknowledge my presence, so I got ready for work and left without saying a word.

The next three days passed pretty much the same way. Sherlock was gone most of the time I was home. When he was home our conversations were minimal. It was as if we were both afraid of saying anything of importance. He went through an alarming number of nicotine patches and never came to bed. Sometimes late at night I heard his violin, playing mournful melodies. I assumed that he was probably working out his frustrations with the case.

I tried to get him to talk about it a few times, but he flatly refused to reveal anything about what he was doing or what he had learned. I took that to mean that he had nothing of importance to tell, and that was probably making him morose.

I continued to follow Lucas' murder case in the news, but nothing new was reported there either. The suspect was still unknown, and nothing of value had been taken from the house. It came out that Lucas had been conducting affairs with quite a few women in London, but other than that there was nothing found to indicate why he might have been murdered.

All that changed on the morning of the fourth day since our visit from the Prime Minister and Secretary. I was scanning the morning's news on my laptop when I choked on my tea.

"Sherlock!" I called, "Come and look at this!"

It was an article on the Telegraph's website reporting that a woman in France had been arrested after confessing to Lucas' murder. It turned out that Eduardo Lucas' real name was Henri Fournaye, and he had skipped out on his wife some years ago and created a new identity. Madame Fournaye had apparently caught up with her husband in London, stabbed him in a fit of jealousy, and immediately returned to France where she began to lose her sanity. She was arrested in Paris for being a public nuisance, and subsequently confessed to the murder of her husband. An investigation tracked her movements by train, and it all fit the timeframe of the murder.

"Well Sherlock," I sad after he was done reading over my shoulder, "what do you think of that?"

Sherlock began pacing the sitting room, running his hands through his curls.

He sighed impatiently and said, "This doesn't help me much at all, except to reinforce my conviction that women are completely irrational creatures. She goes to the effort to track down her husband, presumably because he's important to her, but then she kills him. To prove what? How does she gain by that? And then, supposing her motivation was just revenge, she then confesses to the murder! So she's ended the life of someone she supposedly loved, and ruined her own. It's completely irrational!"

"What is with you and your misogynistic comments lately?" I asked. "You of all people should know that the majority of domestic murders, as well as murders in general, are committed by men. And their reasons are no more rational than a woman's."

"Misogynistic comments!" Sherlock exclaimed, "I'm not making misogynistic comments!"

"Well what would you call what you just said, and the rubbish you said about Mrs. Hope earlier this week?"

"I'm not...I..." Sherlock seemed to be temporarily at a loss for words. Finally he said, "I can't talk about this right now. I need to think about the case."

With that he grabbed his coat and slammed out of the flat and out of the building.

TBC...

Comments/reviews are begged for...


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock Holmes Saves a Marriage - 4

_"Misogynistic comments!" Sherlock exclaimed, "I'm not making misogynistic comments!"_

_"Well what would you call what you just said, and the rubbish you said about Mrs. Hope earlier this week?"_

_"I'm not...I..." Sherlock seemed to be temporarily at a loss for words. Finally he said, "I can't talk about this right now. I need to think about the case."_

_With that he grabbed his coat and slammed out of the flat and out of the building._

I walked over to the window to watch him leave. I wasn't quite sure why I wanted to see where he would go, my feet seemed to have a mind of their own.

I stood at the window and watched as Sherlock burst energetically from the building and went out to the curb as if he were going to hail a cab. Except that, after a pause, he didn't. Instead he turned around and looked up at me in the window. Our eyes locked, and my heart did an odd lurch, and I smiled. Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise, and then suddenly he was hurrying back in the building.

_What the hell was that?_ I wondered to myself. _Even when he's being insufferable I still can't help but smile at him?_

Sherlock came back inside the flat, looking a little deflated.

"I'm sorry, John," he said, "I'm just so frustrated by this case! Lucas' death might be solved, but it's a minor thing compared to the catastrophe I've been called on to prevent. I just can't seem to make any progress. The only significant thing that has happened is that nothing has happened! Mycroft has his minions texting me every hour to tell me that there are no new developments, and no new hostilities have erupted in the area in question. If the letter were loose...but it _can't_ be loose...if it were we would have heard something by now. But where can it be? Who has it? What is their motive in not either publishing it or selling it to someone who will? My brain just keeps turning these questions over and over. Was it a coincidence that Lucas' wife killed him the night the letter disappeared? Did he have the letter? If he did, why wasn't it found at his house? Did his wife steal it and take it to Paris? How can I search for it there without the French police getting involved? In this case, the law is as dangerous to us as the criminals are. Everything is against us, and the stakes are enormous."

He heaved a huge sigh and threw himself on the couch in a dramatic pose.

"You need a rest," I said, "get some sleep, eat something, do something else for a few hours."

Sherlock huffed irritably.

"When was the last time you had a meal, or any sleep?" I persisted.

Sherlock frowned, "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but getting that letter back."

"But maybe if you gave your mind and body a rest you might achieve a breakthrough."

Sherlock suddenly sat up with a gleam in his eyes, "Alright," he announced, "I'll give it a try."

He hopped off the couch and went into the bedroom. I followed out of curiosity, was he going to lie down for a nap right there and then?

Instead, he went to his dresser and started rummaging in the top drawer. He pulled something out with an expression of satisfaction. He handed me what looked like two tickets, and that's exactly what they were.

They were two _expensive_ tickets for that evening's performance of the London Symphony Orchestra.

"John, sometimes you are a genius! I had almost forgotten about these. I bought them a few days before this case started as a belated birthday present for you, since we had so much fun when we went last time. But with everything that's happened I almost forgot about them. Tonight's piece is Beethoven's Ninth. If that can't inspire me to find a solution to this problem, nothing will."

I was so surprised I didn't know what to say. I think I gaped at him rather like a goldfish.

"You're free tonight, aren't you?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, but..." I didn't know quite how to finish my sentence.

"You don't want to go? I'm sure you would enjoy it. It's one of the greatest pieces of music ever written."

"No, it's fine, it's just...I'm surprised, that's all."

Sherlock smiled, "Alright, soooo...it's _not_ a date, then?"

"Ha, ha," I paused, "am I going to have to get out the evening clothes again?"

Sherlock looked puzzled, "I thought that went without saying."

I rubbed my face, "Alright, I better go check the suit and make sure it's ready to go."

"You do want to make use of it, right? I mean, you want to get your money's worth don't you?"

"I still haven't finished paying the bloody thing off!" I called over my shoulder as I made my way to my now mostly abandoned room.

I was busy for the next few minutes getting the suit, tie, and shoes together and checking them over when I heard Sherlock come pounding up the stairs. He burst into the room waving his phone.

"I just got a text from Lestrade. He says he's found something at the Lucas crime scene that he wants me to look into. Leave the suit with Mrs. Hudson, she'll press it for you. Right now we have to go see what Lestrade has found."

Mrs. Hudson seemed remarkably happy to press my suit for me, when I brought it down for her and explained the situation. I had been expecting the usual 'not your housekeeper' routine.

Sherlock was practically dancing with impatience by the time we left the building. Sherlock said it would be quicker to walk than to wait for a cab, so we set off at what was for him a brisk walk and what was for me more of a jog. Not for the first time did I wish that Sherlock and I were a bit more physically matched.

"What do you suppose Lestrade has found?" I asked.

"No idea. I'm trying not to speculate."

We got to the house in less than ten minutes. It was very formal, but a bit narrow and slightly dingy looking. As we approached I could see Lestrade looking out for us in the front window and he came out to greet us.

"Sherlock, good to see you, thanks for coming. Hi John, so nice of you to come as well. Shall we?"

He ushered us into the house and directly into the front room where the murder had taken place. Naturally the body had been removed long ago, and all that remained to indicate the crime was a large, ugly stain on the once beautiful carpet.

It was oriental in style, and centered in the middle of the room. Around it was a large border of the beautiful wood flooring. Over the large fireplace was a display of weapons, one of them obviously missing, presumably the dagger used in the murder. There was a beautiful old-fashioned desk situated underneath one of the front windows. It was a very attractive and comfortable room. Mr. Lucas was apparently a man who enjoyed fine things.

"Have you seen the news report from Paris?" asked Lestrade.

Sherlock nodded, his eyes darting quickly around the room.

Lestrade continued, "I think they have the true murderer in custody. She apparently knocked on the door - he came to it completely unaware, probably never thought she'd turn up again after so long. He let her in - obviously he didn't want her making a scene in the street. They argued, one thing led to another, and she finally grabbed the dagger off the wall in a rage and stabbed him through the heart."

"So why am I here?" asked Sherlock impatiently.

"Well, we were wrapping up the crime scene today, I had just come by to have a quick word with Anderson and Donovan who were finalizing everything, when I noticed something odd. It doesn't change what happened, but I thought I would ask you about it anyway."

"What is it?" Sherlock was clearly losing patience.

"Well, obviously as a crime scene we are very careful to keep things as they are found. Nothing but the body has been moved. The scene has been secured since the murder. But this morning I noticed that this carpet has somehow been moved. The stain was not in the same position as where the body was originally found. If you lift the carpet here at the stain...you will see that there is no stain on the wooden floor underneath even though the blood soaked all the way through."

Lestrade then moved across to the other side of the carpet, "Now if you look over on this side, you can see a stain on the wooden floor that matches the carpet over there."

I could see that Sherlock was almost quivering with excitement.

"So who moved the carpet, then?" he asked.

Lestrade said, "Well, I was hoping you could explain it. No one seems to have noticed when it was switched around. All the photos were taken the first night, before the carpet was ever moved, and no one can recall when the switch happened. I just happened to notice it this morning when I came by. Anderson and Donovan were completely surprised. The entire forensics crew swears that none of them switched it."

Sherlock had a gleam of triumph in his eyes. "Oh, I think I might be able to shed some light on this mystery. Go call Donovan and Anderson and tell them to get down here right away. I'm going to need their help."

Lestrade seemed to hesitate.

"Do you want an answer or not? I need to ask them some questions, only they can help me. Go! I'll continue to investigate here while you call."

And with that Sherlock practically shoved Lestrade out the door of the room.

A/N: still begging for feedback...


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock Holmes Saves a Marriage - 5

Sherlock shut the door on the protesting Lestrade.

"You're only allowed to do this because this isn't technically a crime scene anymore!" called Lestrade through the door.

"If you want me to help you'll let me do my work and get Anderson and Donovan down here," exclaimed Sherlock back through the door.

At the same time he began gesturing frantically to me to follow him to the carpet.

"Quick John," he whispered with excitement, "let's see what was so important underneath here."

Once the carpet was out of the way he began crawling on the wooden floor scratching on it with his fingernails. I took his lead and began to do the same.

After a few seconds I heard him give a quiet exclamation of triumph. One board was loose and came up to reveal a small space underneath it. Sherlock immediately thrust his hand into the compartment, felt around for a few seconds then jerked his hand back with a growl of anger. There was nothing in there.

His disappointment lasted only a second, though. He swiftly replaced the board and said, "Quick John! We have to replace the carpet."

We had just straightened the carpet out when we heard Lestrade's voice on the other side of the door.

"I've called Anderson and Donovan, they are on the way down here."

Sherlock opened the door, "You might as well come in, I've done all I can for the moment."

"What can you tell me?"

"That you really need to exercise more discipline over your people. Clearly, someone was here who shouldn't have been. It had to be either Anderson or Donovan who allowed him or her access to the scene."

Lestrade looked startled, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, but the guilty party will try to deny it, so it would be best if you let me do the talking."

"I can't allow my people to be accosted on a disciplinary matter by YOU! That just simply wouldn't be fair."

Sherlock considered for a moment.

"If I'm able to get one of them to confess without attacking them professionally, would that be acceptable?"

Lestrade sighed, "I suppose so. Just be careful and don't make me sorry I called you in."

After a bit Anderson and Donovan arrived at about the same time, but separately. It was clear that Donovan was angry about something as she moved stiffly and fire flashed from her eyes. Anderson looked sulky and defensive. I noticed that Sally held herself at quite a distance from Anderson, and wouldn't even glance in his direction. Interesting, so she was angry at _him_ over something.

I glanced over at Sherlock, just to see if he was studying them in the same way I was. However, I was surprised to see that Sherlock was greeting them both with a friendly smile and a handshake. Anderson and Donovan also looked surprised, but shook hands with him anyway.

"Now," began Sherlock, "Anderson, I know we may have had our differences, but I want you to know that I deeply sympathize with your situation."

"My...situation?" Anderson stammered.

"Yes, it's pretty common knowledge that you are married to a...lovely yet difficult woman...and that you cope as best as you can."

Sherlock beamed kindly at Anderson and Donovan both, waves of compassion and understanding seemed to flow from him, encompassing all of us in the room. Although I'd seen Sherlock use his uncanny acting ability before, it never failed to impress me. At times like that he is almost a force of nature, completely irresistible.

Except that Sally didn't seem to be much impressed. She still looked angry.

"Oh yeah, he copes all right. He copes with every tramp who crosses his path!" she sneered, finally looking at Anderson for the first time.

"Sally! I told you..." began Anderson.

Sherlock held up his hand gently, looking and sounding like a trained couples counselor, "Now Sally, you know that Anderson treasures his, ah, relationship with you. I'm sure whatever it was that you saw wasn't what you thought."

Sally snorted.

"Look," said Anderson desperately, "I...I'm sorry. I did let her in. It was a woman, she said she was Lucas' lover, and she looked just absolutely devastated. She said she wanted to say goodbye, to bring some closure so that she could move on. So...so I let her have a few minutes alone here to say goodbye. We were finished, what harm could it bring? When I walked back in she had the carpet all bunched up around her and she was sobbing as she stroked the blood stain. It was just about the saddest thing I've ever seen...and I've seen some sad things. So yeah, I went over and hugged her. That's all it was Sally! I swear!"

Sally crossed her arms over her chest and glared daggers at him. There was a moment of uneasy silence.

Sherlock looked over at Lestrade, "Well, I hope this solves the puzzle to your satisfaction. No harm was done, and I'm sure you will take into consideration that Anderson was, er, assisting a member of the public. After all, that's what the police are for, right? Sometimes it may take a rather unorthodox form..."

"Right," Lestrade broke in, "Anderson, you're with me." He jerked his head toward the door.

They exited, Anderson looking decidedly hang-dog.

After they had left, Sherlock turned to Sally, still radiating warm tenderness.

"Sally," he said, "when will you accept love from a man who truly deserves you?"

Her eyes narrowed, "Who are you and what have you done with the body of Sherlock Holmes?"

Instantly, Sherlock shut off the therapist persona and became himself again.

"So," he said briskly, "the mystery of the moving carpet is solved. If you want my advice Sally, which I'm sure you don't, stop covering for Anderson professionally. It will only hurt you. As for this incident, it probably was just as Anderson said. I think he was telling the truth, but you can prove it to me if you want."

"How would I do that?" she asked suspiciously.

Sherlock reached into his jacket and took out a small picture.

"Was this the woman you found Anderson with last night?"

Sally stared at the picture, eyes wide.

"Yes!" she exclaimed.

"Then he's telling the truth and you don't have to worry. She has no interest in stealing Anderson away from you. She really was Lucas' lover."

He paused, "I meant what I said, Sally. You could do so much better. Think about it."

She looked at him uncertainly, "You're not suggesting that you - "

"Please Sally!" he snorted, "I'm trying to be nice! Don't ruin it! Well, it seems our work here is done, John. We'll be off. Tell Lestrade to call me if there is anything else."

We left the house and set off down the street. I could tell that Sherlock was bursting with excitement. Once we were a safe distance away, Sherlock burst out into almost manic laughter.

After he had regained some control of himself, he turned to me and put my hands on his shoulders.

"Well, John, one last encounter and it's all finished! There will be no war, the Foreign Secretary will not suffer a setback in his career, the indiscreet sender of the letter will escape a downfall, and the Prime Minister will hopefully improve in his mood. All we have to do is to act with a little bit of tact and sensitivity, and all this will be resolved. Everybody will walk away safely from what could have been a very ugly situation. And you want to know what the best part is?"

"What?"

"Anderson now owes _me _a favor!"

TBC...

A/N: So for those of you who are familiar with the original ACD story - I'd love to hear your thoughts on my interpretation of this part with the current cast. Actually, I'd love to hear anybody's thoughts on any aspect. Reviews are like oxygen! :-)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Ok, I have to start with a HUGE apology to all of you who have been reading this story. I made 2 major errors in the previous chapter. One I corrected by sending out a revised chapter and the other one I am going to clarify here. The first error was that I forgot to mention that the cavity in the floor was EMPTY. That error was fixed with the revised chapter.

The second error came at the end of the chapter when Sherlock talks to John. I meant to write that Sherlock puts his hands on John's shoulders, but instead I wrote that Sherlock put John's hands on his own shoulders! D'oh!

Apparently I need a "beta reader" but I'm not familiar with how to go about getting one. Any suggestions?

Anyway, I'm getting toward the end of this story. Thanks to all of you who have stuck it out with me! Please consider making a comment. It always makes my day...

Sherlock Holmes Saves a Marriage - 6

_We left the house and set off down the street. I could tell that Sherlock was bursting with excitement. Once we were a safe distance away, Sherlock burst out into almost manic laughter._

_After he had regained some control of himself, he turned to me and put his hands on my shoulders._

_"Well, John, one last encounter and it's all finished! There will be no war, the Foreign Secretary will not suffer a setback in his career, the indiscreet sender of the letter will escape a downfall, and the Prime Minister will hopefully improve in his mood. All we have to do is to act with a little bit of tact and sensitivity, and all this will be resolved. Everybody will walk away safely from what could have been a very ugly situation. And you want to know what the best part is?"_

_"What?"_

_"Anderson now owes __me __a favor!" _

"How so?"

Sherlock huffed impatiently, "Because I told Lestrade to go easy on him for breaking police protocol! Lestrade's a softy - he'll listen to me and Anderson will probably get nothing more than a talking-to. It'll never even get in his record, most likely. Also, I cleared his behavior to Sally Donovan. She'll forgive him and they'll continue on as before. So, I've helped him out in both his professional and personal life. I fully intend to make use of that."

He smiled with unholy satisfaction.

I wasn't particularly interested in Anderson, I was more concerned with the larger problem.

"So, Sherlock, you've solved the case?"

"Not exactly. There are still a few details I don't have, but I have enough that I think we can get the rest."

We had resumed walking down the street and Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text. In a few minutes his phone chirped in reply. After glancing at the message, he hailed a cab.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we got in.

"To the home of Foreign Secretary Hope and his wife."

Sherlock gave the cabbie the address and refused to answer any more of my questions.

When we arrived, it was to find Mrs. Hillary Hope alone, and she was not pleased to see us.

She let us in, frowning, and showed us to a formal sitting room. I wondered to myself how many important and powerful people had possibly sat in the chair I found myself in.

Mrs. Hope addressed Sherlock with a face flushed with anger.

"Mr. Holmes, I explained to you that I wanted to keep my visit to you a secret. I didn't want my husband to think I was interfering with his affairs. You coming here to see me will make him suspicious."

"Unfortunately, there was no alternative. I was hired by the government to recover an important document, and so I must ask you to please give it to me."

Mrs. Hope leaped out of her chair, going from flushed to pale instantly. I saw her start to sway, and I was also out of my seat to catch her and ease her back into a sitting position. I advised her to take some deep breaths.

Once the shock was over and she was able to speak she glared at Sherlock. "I won't be insulted in my home, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock looked bored. "It is useless for you to deny it, give me the letter."

"I'm calling the police," she reached for her phone.

"If you call the police, all my attempts to prevent a scandal will be for nothing. If you give me the letter, everything will be alright. Work with me, and I can protect you, if you work against me, I will expose you."

For a long moment the two of them stared at each other in a silent contest of wills. Finally, Mrs. Hope dropped her gaze.

"You are trying to frighten me, Mr. Holmes. It's very unfair for the two of you to gang up on a lone woman. You act as if you think you know something. Well, what is it? What are you threatening me with?"

"I know that you were having an affair with Eduardo Lucas and that you gave him the letter. I also know of your successful recovery of the letter from the hiding place under the carpet in Lucas' house."

Mrs. Hope went even paler, although I wouldn't have thought it possible. She swallowed several times before she could speak.

"Madness!" she finally croaked, "you can't be serious!"

Sherlock pulled out the picture he had shown to Sally Donovan and showed it to Mrs. Hope.

"After your charming visit to me earlier this week, I printed out this picture and started carrying it with me because I thought it might be useful. It's no use denying it, Mrs. Hope. A policewoman has identified you."

She sank boneless in her seat, unable to hold her head up.

After a pause, Sherlock continued in a slightly kinder tone, "Mrs. Hope, you have the letter. We can still fix this. I have no wish to cause you trouble. My only duty is to return the lost letter to your husband. Please, help me, it's your only chance."

She gulped one more time and then said in a low but steady voice, "Mr. Holmes, you are mistaken. I do not have that letter."

Sherlock stood up, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hope. I've done my best to help you, but you wouldn't accept it."

As he was speaking, he withdrew his phone from his pocket and dialed.

"Is Secretary Hope in his office?...Would you please give him a message? This is Sherlock Holmes, and I am waiting for him at his home with important news on an issue we discussed earlier this week. Please tell him it's urgent that he comes home as soon as possible. Thank you, goodbye."

Mrs. Hope had begun to cry as Sherlock made the call. Once he hung up she immediately left her chair and clutched at his arm.

"For heaven's sake don't tell him! I love him! I don't want to hurt him! This will break his heart! I'll do it, I'll do whatever you want! Just please don't tell him!"

"Finally! You have some sense after all! We have to move quickly, where is the letter?"

She ran over to a desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a long, blue envelope.

"Here it is," she said, "I wish to God I'd never seen it!"

"So, we must return it, but how?" muttered Sherlock to himself. "Quick! Where is the fire safe that he had it in?"

"It's in our bedroom."

"Take us there!"

The three of us ran upstairs and into the bedroom. Sherlock dropped to the floor and pulled the heavy box out from under the bed.

"How did you open it before?"

Mrs. Hope guiltily produced a key.

"Yes, of course you had a duplicate key made. Open it!"

The safe was stuffed with papers. Sherlock shoved the envelope deep into the pile, between the pages of another document. The box was shut, locked, and shoved back under the bed. We three then hurried back downstairs to assume innocent positions around the sitting room.

"Well, we should be safe now. It will probably be another ten minutes before your husband gets home. I am putting myself at risk to shield you, Mrs. Hope. So in return, you will tell me how this situation came about."

"Alright, Mr. Holmes, I will tell you everything. First, I must tell you that I never meant to hurt my husband. I love him, I really do, although I'm sure you have plenty of reasons to disbelieve me. And I'm sure that if he ever found out what I've done he would never forgive me. And that would be ok, because what I did was unforgiveable."

Sherlock sighed and made an impatient gesture, "Hurry this up Mrs. Hope! Time is running out!"

Mrs. Hope took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and began speaking rapidly, "A few years ago I discovered that my husband was having an affair. It took awhile for me to confirm my suspicions, because I knew that he still loved me and we had a good relationship, nothing had really changed between us, if that makes sense. Anyway, I could smell a different scent on him at times, and there were other little clues. I was curious more than jealous, but I decided I wanted to know the truth. Well, it turned out that his lover was Eduardo Lucas."

At this point she opened her eyes and glanced nervously at us.

"It might seem strange to you, but instead of being upset or jealous I was...intrigued. I wanted to find out what Mr. Lucas had that attracted my husband. So, I arranged to meet him...and I eventually became his lover as well. But my husband never knew. It was...odd of course, but things continued on the same. And I continued to love my husband. Even more in some regards. I could tell when he had been with Eduardo, and it was exciting and well...I think I've said enough about that. But then suddenly last week things got ugly. Eduardo found out through a spy in my husband's office that my husband had this important letter. He knew that he could never blackmail my husband. But he threatened to expose me if I didn't steal the letter for him. He told me the letter was of no particular importance and that it wouldn't cause any harm to my husband for it to go missing. Put yourself in my position, what could I do?"

"You could have told your husband the truth! After all, he was also being unfaithful!"

"I didn't care about that! I didn't want to threaten my husband! I love him! And I was happy with how things were. It was strange, maybe, but it worked for us. I didn't want to ruin what we had. I didn't know the importance of the letter, all I wanted to do was to save my...marriage. So I did it. I made the duplicate key and I brought the letter to Eduardo."

"And what happened then?"

"Well, I told my husband that I was going to the theatre that night, but instead I was smuggling the letter to Eduardo. When I got there, he took the letter, and there was a knock on the door. I saw him quickly hide the letter in the secret floor compartment. When he answered the door a woman came bursting in, screaming in French. I was so upset that I ran away, I didn't learn about the murder until the next day."

"That next morning is when I realized the terrible consequences of what I had done. It broke my heart to see my husband so frantic. I almost confessed everything to him then and there, but I didn't. When I came to see you later that morning I was hoping to learn the consequences of my actions, which you did hint at. So I knew then I had to somehow get that paper back, but how? Well, you have found out how I finally managed. Ever since I got possession of it, I've been wondering what to do with it, though. I was considering destroying it because I couldn't think of a way to return it to my husband without telling him the whole truth. Oh dear God, here he is now!"

We heard the front door open, and the Foreign Secretary burst into the sitting room eagerly.

"What is your news, Mr. Holmes?"

TBC...

A/N: So, I wanted to get this chapter up, as a way of apologizing to all of you for the mistakes of the one I posted earlier today. There will probably be only one more chapter after this one...please tell me what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: OK, um, this chapter is going to deal with some kinky stuff so if you don't want to read about threesomes or m/m flirting stop right here. There's nothing graphic, however.

Sherlock Holmes Saves a Marriage - 7

_We heard the front door open, and the Foreign Secretary burst into the sitting room eagerly._

_"What is your news, Mr. Holmes?"_

"I believe I have determined the location of the document in question."

"Oh thank God!" the Secretary seemed to almost go limp with relief. "The Prime Minister will probably be here in a few minutes. Would you like to wait until he gets here?"

"Certainly, if you wish."

Mr. Hope turned to his wife, "I'm sorry my dear, but this is a confidential matter. I will come and see you once this is over."

They exchanged a quick kiss and Mrs. Hope left the room with one last glance at Sherlock.

Just a moment later the Prime Minister and Mycroft arrived. The Prime Minister wasted no time with pleasantries.

"I understand that you have news, Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes," said Sherlock confidently. "I have looked everywhere where it might be, and I am sure that the document is in no danger of being made public."

"But that is not good enough, Mr. Holmes. We need something definite, otherwise, we will always be concerned that it will surface."

"I believe we can secure it. That's why I came here. The more I work on the problem, the more I'm convinced that the letter never left this house. If it had, it would have been published by now."

"But why would anyone take it and just keep it in this house?"

"I don't believe that anyone did take it."

"Then how did it leave my fire safe?" asked the Secretary.

"I believe it is still in the fire safe."

The Prime Minister was angry, "Mr. Holmes, if this is a joke it is not funny."

Sherlock turned back to the Secretary, "Have you looked through the safe since Tuesday morning?"

"No. I checked it carefully then, and I haven't needed to access it since."

"You may have overlooked it in your hurry Tuesday morning."

"That's not possible."

Sherlock shrugged, "Such things happen. Were there other papers in there? It might have got mixed in with them."

"But it was on the top!"

"It may have slipped when the safe was moved."

"But I took everything out on Tuesday!"

The Prime Minister broke in, "Stop it! This can easily be resolved. Hope, is your fire safe small enough to bring down here?"

"Yes, I will go get it, but I know this is a waste of time."

In a minute he was back with the safe.

"Here it is," he said, "and here is the key."

He unlocked the box and began removing the papers inside.

"Here is a letter from Lord Merrow, the report from Sir Charles Hardy, field memos from Belgrade, a report on grain taxes, a letter from King Juan Carlos - and OH MY _GOD_!"

The Prime Minister snatched the blue envelope from Secretary Hope's hand.

"Yes, this is it!" he exclaimed, "and the letter is intact."

"Oh! What a relief!" sighed the Secretary, "I just can't believe it! Mr. Holmes, how did you know it was there?"

"Because I knew it was nowhere else."

There was a quiet moment as we all smiled at each other.

"Well," said Mycroft finally, "it seems that I should return to my office, now that this has been happily resolved."

"Yes, John and I need to be going as well," announced Sherlock.

We shook hands with the Secretary and Prime Minister, and then walked out into the hall toward the front door. We could hear the Secretary and PM begin to talk excitedly once we were out of the room.

Mycroft stopped in the hall, "Sherlock," he said quietly, "how did the letter get back in the safe?"

Sherlock paused, smiled his sly smile and walked up to Mycroft's side. He draped an arm over Mycroft's shoulders and spoke quietly in his ear as his other hand came up and his fingers gently stroked Mycroft's tie.

"Mycroft, I know what an important man you are," he purred, "but I too have my own diplomatic secrets."

If Mycroft was startled by this, he gave no sign, but merely turned his head to look Sherlock in the face. The two brothers gazed intensely at each other for what seemed like ages but what was really only about three or four seconds.

"Understood," said Mycroft finally, with an eyebrow arched.

Sherlock nodded slightly and stepped back. He then turned around and ducked his head into the doorway on the other side of the hall.

"Good day, Mrs. Hope, it was so nice to meet you," he said cheerily to what was a flustered-looking Mrs. Hope in the dining room. She nodded somewhat jerkily and licked her lips before giving a somewhat gasped "goodbye". She then turned and practically fled out of the room and down the hall.

Sherlock was smiling, Mycroft rolled his eyes and then asked, "Can I give you two a ride home?"

"You certainly may," said Sherlock with satisfaction as we left the house. Mycroft's car was parked just outside.

We climbed inside, and Mycroft gave the driver our address.

Once we were rolling, Mycroft turned to Sherlock, "That was a bit childish. What was the point?"

"I wanted you to see for yourself where the source of this trouble came from. I trust I positioned us so that you could observe her?"

"Yes, I had an excellent view of her reaction to you nibbling my ear, but I would have taken your word for it."

"Does she know we're brothers?"

"I doubt it, she's never seen me before today. In my minor position, I have a fairly low visibility factor."

Sherlock snorted, then said, "Well, it all ended well, but you really need to keep a closer eye on your top politicians - and their wives. It just isn't on to have the Foreign Secretary and his wife conducting an affair with a spy. How did you miss that?"

Mycroft chose not to reply.

Sherlock smirked, recognizing the victory and pressed on, "Well, just make sure that the next third party the Hopes pick up has proper security clearance."

Mycroft gave Sherlock an arch look.

"Oh bollocks Mycroft, you can't tell me that you're not capable of doing that, at least!"

"Language, Sherlock," said Mycroft, but he was smiling.

"There's a spy in Hope's office, by the way. Mrs. Hope didn't tell me who it is, I doubt she knows."

"Thanks, I'll take care of it."

Mycroft was no longer smiling, but instead giving that look that always reminded me why Sherlock told me Mycroft was the most dangerous man I'd ever met. I shivered slightly.

"Cold, John?" asked Sherlock.

"No, just a goose walking over my grave," I said.

Both brothers looked at me oddly. Maybe it was a phrase they weren't familiar with.

We had pulled up in front of Baker Street and as the car stopped Mycroft said, "I'm having Taliesin and Margaret over for Sunday dinner tomorrow. Would you two like to join us?"

Sherlock froze. We hadn't had the chance to meet Mycroft's son or the son's mother yet. Mycroft had just had his paternity of Taliesin officially recognized.

"Of course," said Sherlock after a pause, "what time?"

"I was thinking about one or so."

"We'll be there."

"Can we bring anything?" I asked.

"Just yourselves," smiled Mycroft.

As the car slid away Sherlock turned to me with eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"Today is a good day! I prevented a war, I saved a marriage, we're going to the symphony tonight, and tomorrow I meet my nephew!"

He suddenly reached down and grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the front door.

"Come on, John! Let's see if Mrs. Hudson has pressed your suit yet. I can't wait to see you in it again."

END

A/N: So please, I'm begging - final thoughts/reactions to the story? Do you still want me to continue?


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